In Your Arms
by Hot elf
Summary: It's late at night and Sif is lonely - until there's a knock on her door...


**In Your Arms**

Sif has already withdrawn to her chambers when a single, hard knock on her door announces a visitor. She's washed off the dust of the sparring court and changed into comfortable house clothes, with no other plan for the evening than to rest and contemplate her fate. Who would come to see her at this hour? In a high, clear voice she bids the visitor enter.

The door opens and there he is, the one she hasn't dared dream of. His tall, muscular frame fills the doorway, even in the simple tunic he's wearing. His hair is neatly tied back and there's a cautious smile on his face.

"Thor!" It's impossible to keep the surprise out of her voice.

For months now, he's spent every evening in Midgard with _her_. Sif knows she has no claim on him, but it hurts no less for that. How he can prefer a mere mortal to a warrior maiden like her, is something she will never understand. She could rule at his side, she was born to do it, and he-

"My lady." There's a tremor in his deep voice that goes straight to her heart.

She begins to rise to greet him, but he stops her with a gesture. He's right in front of her in two, three quick steps, the heavy door falling shut behind him.

Before she can say a word, he drops to his knees, bowing his head before her. "I have come to ask your forgiveness."

He looks up at her with those bright blue eyes and what she reads in them takes her breath away. It's all there; the respect, the friendship, the admiration that used to be there before he lost his heart to the mortal. But there's something else, something more, and with a shudder she realizes-

When she speaks, her throat is far too tight. "You have it, my lord. You know I am yours."

His face lights up at her words, with this bright, boyish smile of his that puts wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and makes her heart flutter. He opens his mouth to speak, but she silences him with a finger to his lips and he shivers at her touch. Never letting go of her gaze, he leans in and kisses her.

His mouth is soft, his beard tickling her a little, but it feels so sweet, so right. He's only ever kissed her once before, after a night of drunken revelling. This is much better. He pulls back, looking at her with a question in his eyes. When she nods, he's back, deepening the kiss and she can't stop herself from moaning into his mouth.

The kiss seems to last forever, and when it ends, he pulls her right back into another, and another. Time seems to stand still and there's nothing but his lips, the feel of his bearded jaw under her trembling fingers; the soft growl in the back of his throat. When she slides a hand under the fabric of his tunic, a shudder runs through his powerful frame and he throws off the garment. He pulls her close and it's almost too much; the sight of his perfectly sculpted body, the heat of his skin, the scent of him. She _whimpers_ and he bites his lip hard.

"Sif. I would-" He doesn't need to say more. She can feel his need, and she doesn't have it in her to deny him.

When she nods, he picks her up bodily and carries her the small distance over to the bed, lowering her carefully onto the sheets. Her head is spinning, an inner voice screaming at her to end this, but she can't stop, can't tell him, because she has loved him for as long as she can remember and she has wanted this forever.

Thor is sweet and gentle, so very gentle, as he undresses her and takes possession of her body, worshipping every inch of her with rough, calloused hands. Her skin is aflame by the time he spreads her legs wide and moves between them and she is so ready for him, more than ready. She can't wait, moaning impatiently as he props himself up carefully on both arms so as not to smother her with his weight.

When he thrusts inside her, it's perfect, everything she's ever wanted and she closes her eyes, willing the tears back, but a single one escapes her and trails down her cheek.

"Sif. My lady." There's an infinite amount of tenderness in his voice and it breaks her heart.

But she knows she can't go on any longer. It takes all her strength to open her eyes and say the words, but it's time. "Loki. You can drop the illusion now."

For a single instant he goes very still, and somewhere beneath the pain she actually feels a flash of triumph, for she has succeeded in surprising him. But, then the familiar cold smile appears, and it looks _wrong_ on Thor's gentle features.

"Now." Her voice is shaky, but determined.

The transformation is quick, fluid, and seamless. Blond hair turns black, blue eyes green, bearded cheeks smooth. His body loses most of its bulk; it turns lithe and taut in her arms. _Though no less beautiful_, a treacherous voice at the back of her mind supplies. Even his cock inside her feels different, slimmer and longer, and she mentally shakes her head at this. _He doesn't do transformation by half measures, does he?_

Loki starts to pull away, but she holds him back. "No. Finish what you've started."

He raises a single eyebrow at her, but doesn't say a word. His expression is a weird mixture of cool amusement and genuine care as he carefully wipes the tear off her cheek.

And then Loki _moves_ and she cries out before she can stop herself. There's a snakelike grace to the movement of his hips and somehow he unerringly hits every sweet spot inside her. His skin is like cool silk under her touch, and when his lips lock around her straining nipple it sends her straight over the edge. At the edge of her consciousness, she hears his triumphant laugh as he continues to thrust, with quick, jerky movements, that announce his impending release.

He comes inside her but, before she can gather her wits, he's already sliding down between her legs, arranging her strong thighs on his shoulders. His tongue does _things_ to her that she will never forget, things that will make her blush afterward. It feels so good that all she can do is twist her hands in the sheets and beg for mercy. Yet mercy is not in Loki's nature. He quickly takes her to a second climax, leaving her trembling and boneless as he withdraws.

His face is inscrutable as ever as he rises, his eyes guarded and wary, but he is considerate enough to get dressed _before_ changing back into Thor's form.

When the door falls shut behind him, Sif takes a deep breath. She puts a hand on her stomach, where she can still feel the fluttering aftershocks of the pleasure he's given her, and she waits for the tears to come.

But they never do.

* * *

_Big hugs and thanks to suilven for betaing this for me!  
_


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